Exodus
by J.L. Dexter
Summary: Being hunted and condemned for what he is, Jack Sparrow finds himself virtually alone in the world. But the greatest escape is about to go down with the help from the most unlikely of allies. Now one thing remains to be known: Can you handle the truth?
1. Discovery

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Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or the places, just the plot and imaginative background collaborating this story. The standard disclaimer and all: Writer to reader and but to butt; stay off my ass you crazy nut. -_-;;

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A/N: _Just a quick note to say this story was previously started by Tortuga Wench, however, she's hit a rough spot and passed it to me where she'll continue to work on it as a co-writer with myself. _

Exodus: From Past to Present

As time goes by, you realize with each year that your age isn't just a number; it's a story. Each wrinkle tells a tale, each tear is noted, and every heart-ache is remembered. After a while, you stop learning to view your life as an end, but see it more as a beginning, each new day the start of something good. And eventually, the book is closed on a setting sun, the memories collecting dust, but never forgotten. - Tortuga Wench

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On the southwest coast of the Garonne River rested a small city, quaint and picturesque as the first signs of day broke over the horizon. The residents of Bordeaux bustled about the port and market, the sun rising high in the sky as morning quickly turned to noon. Several small houses lined the sandy coast and followed it around veering slightly upward toward the center of town.

One house sat further back, it's quiet aura allowing it to go unnoticed. The small white building rested upon a knoll, it's stone foundation giving it little height above the ground. The paint was beginning to lightly chip offsetting the house as _old, _despite its good condition; the few windows lining the front were clean and visible, the outer panes edged with black shutters. 

The front door was made of heavy oak, black to match the shutters and lightly embellished with a silver handle and a small doorknocker, a single name engraved in the metal: _Smith._

Several feet from the house sat a tiny garden full of budding flowers, the colorful blossoms creating a beautiful landscape as they danced in the gentle wind. Amongst the flowers sat a small woman, her long hair pulled back and gathered at the nape of neck with a few hints of gray showing through.

She sat back on her heels and dragged an arm across her forehead, the dirt streaking her already brown skin. She lazily swatted at a fly that buzzed around annoyingly before going back to pulling weeds among the flowerbed. Using the sun's position in the blue sky, she guessed it to be somewhere close to noon or thereabout; several more hours before her husband was due home from the docks and she patiently awaited his arrival.

Having cleaned her small house hours ago, she had come across an old trunk buried beneath years of junk, dust and age, it's black leather faded and cracked. She was eager to share the discovery with her husband when he came home, sure that his reaction would be much like hers. While the trunk was familiar to her, she could not remember what was hidden away under its lid.

She could clearly remember them storing it away in the small attic of the house, leaving it there to fade and die with the memories locked inside. It had been there since they had, and soon its existence had ceased to even make itself known in both minds, therefore sitting there and rotting, never to be opened again. But today as she stumbled across it, something compelled her to open it and several times she had been ready to when the thought of waiting for her husband bombarded her.

So in the garden she waited, busying herself, trying to push the thoughts of the old trunk from her mind. As she moved to finish the last bit of her garden, she heard a familiar whistle echo on the wind and she brought her head up, her dark eyes dancing with joy. The sun was considerably lower in the sky; later than usual that her husband arrived home every night, but with the comfort of his gentle whistle, she knew all was well.

She saw him crest the small hill and turn up the walk, his tanned face aglow with a smile. Rising to her feet and dusting herself off, she turned and approached him, willing herself to stay calm as she bubbled with the days findings. She peeled her gloves off before meeting him halfway, her arms drawing him close as she kissed him.

"You're home late," she finally quipped when she pulled away.

He grinned at her, his head tilted. "Busy day at the docks, darling," he replied pulling a small coin pouch from his coat pocket. "And wonderful business."

She took the coin purse from him and jingled it. "A busy day indeed. What did you do- double the prices of some oranges?"

The man before her chuckled as he took the coins back and replaced them in his pocket. "Hit the jackpot when some noble stiff turned up asking to look at our line of ships," he explained as they casually sauntered to the house. "Guess he was impressed with the work by the boys because before he was done he had selected one frigate and a schooner. Obviously the latter is for personal pleasure, but it mattered not to me. He paid in full, and handsomely I might add."

The woman laughed at him. "Come inside before your dinner decides to jump up and run away, Jack" she teased, the heavy door closing behind them.

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After they had eaten, Jack followed his wife up the stairs that led to the attic, his weathered hand swiping at cobwebs. He coughed clearing his lungs of the dust as he knelt beside her in front of the chest. Studying it momentarily he suggested, "Let's take it downstairs. This dust isn't human friendly."

She agreed and together they carried the slightly heavy trunk to the kitchen where they placed it on the table, both pairs of eyes staring at it intently. A darkened hand swept across the trunk's lid, clearing it of the dust and exposing a small bronze plaque embedded into the cracked black leather. The faded outline of a ship and a bird was barely visible in the metal, and the name _Sparrow_ was carved slightly below it. Jack left the room and soon returned with a small hatchet, the blunt end serving as a hammer to break the rusted old lock. Behind him stood his wife, cautiously peering over his shoulder as she cast a weary look in his direction.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked skeptically, a hand on his shoulder as she suddenly remembered the trunk. "We'll be opening up everything we locked away."

Jack glanced at her and tenderly took her hand in his. "Aye, I'm sure. We'll be allowing old memories to surface for sure, but what's in the past remains there. It's been so long, a little visit shouldn't hurt."

She nodded solemnly as she turned her gaze back to the chest, her fingers gripping his arm. With a deep breath and his heart racing, he pushed the dusty, old lid open…

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Author's Note: I know there is not much to this story, it's only the first half of it. We've enjoyed writing this little piece and we hope you enjoy reading it as much as we did. -TW and J.L. Dexter.


	2. A Painful Beginning

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or the places, just the plot and imaginative background collaborating this story. The standard disclaimer and all: Writer to reader and but to butt; stay off my ass you crazy nut. --;;

**A/N: **_Just a quick note to say this story was previously started by Tortuga Wench, however, she's hit a rough spot and passed it to me where she'll continue to work on it as a co-writer with myself. _

_Exodus: From Past to Present_

_Previously on Exodus: "Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked skeptically, a hand on his shoulder as she suddenly remembered the trunk. "We'll be opening up everything we locked away." _

_Jack glanced at her and tenderly took her hand in his. "Aye, I'm sure." She nodded solemnly as she turned her gaze back to the chest, her fingers gripping his arm. With a deep breath and his heart racing, he pushed the dusty, old lid open..._

_Thirty years earlier..._

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

His tone was firm, but gentle as he asked the question, his face etched in worry. The woman before him nodded silently before whispering, "Yes."

Jack turned away angrily, his hands balled up tightly as he remembered her comment.

_"I'm leaving, Jack. I just can't stay here- the memories are too painful."_

They were the first words she had spoken in the three days that they had lowered their small daughter six feet under after she contracted malaria. She was less than a year old and had been unable to fight it. Jack's heart felt crushed and he knew the woman opposite him had suffered so much worse.

They had never been married, he and Ana- but their daughter was a slight remembrance of the passion that once was there and Jack cherished the little girl despite that fact. Maybe what they did was wrong, but they both got caught up in the moment- the rum and celebration playing a big part. And then one day Ana came to him, her face downcast as she calmly explained to him that she was pregnant.

Jack's life had been thrown for a loop at that precise moment, a thousand thoughts rushing through his mind. Ana was pregnant. More so, it was his child she was pregnant with. She looked almost terrified at this revelation and he himself was at his wit's end, what was he to do? So, he did what any respectable man would do: he hugged her and told her things would be okay.

And things had been okay for them, at least until the small girl began showing symptoms of an illness. Jack took her to every doctor in England he could find before finally docking in Port Royal and getting the opinion of the physician there. With the doctor's visit came renewed hope, but it was too late. The little girl took a turn for the worse and several days later, she breathed her last.

Both the pirates were distraught but deep down, Jack knew Ana was suffering. She withdrew from the crew and him, locking herself into her cabin. As much as he tried, the pirate captain could not get her to come out- not to eat, talk or even to get some fresh air.

And now she had emerged only to say she was leaving. Jack was angry, but above all else he was upset. Did she not think that he was distressed over the loss of his daughter too, or did she not even care how he felt? Jack did not know and at this point, he wasn't sure he wanted to.

He turned back to face her, her own head bowed as she adverted her gaze. They stood there in silence before Ana couldn't take it any more and she quietly slipped out of his cabin and retreated to her own. Jack sighed as he picked a wooden frame from his desk, a charcoal drawing inside. He rubbed a finger over, a frown covering his features as he sat down heavily in his chair.

His daughter, she had been so young, so full of life, how could it just be taken away from her, from them? It all happened too soon and neither Jack nor Ana were prepared for it. But happen it did and angry they got. There was no silent comforting between the two and each mourned in their own way; leaving just happened to be Ana's way of dealing with it.

But Jack wouldn't give up so easily, he would not run and he could never bury the memory of his daughter.

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When the day for Ana to leave finally came, Jack steeled himself and trekked his way down to the dock. Several of his crew surrounded the young woman, murmuring their farewells and best wishes. As he approached, the grimy men parted and soon all had scattered giving the two some privacy.

Ana fidgeted before saying, "I guess this is good-bye."

Jack nodded sadly. "Aye, guess it is," he paused, his hat in his hands. "Look Ana, I just want to tell you that, you've been a wonderful friend and a loyal first mate. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't gonna miss you."

The young woman picked her head up, her dark eyes misting slightly. "I'm going to miss you too," she whispered, her attention suddenly focused on her feet. She felt a hand on her arm and glanced up just as Jack gently kissed her cheek.

"Take care of yourself," he offered.

She nodded, taking a step back. "I shall and you do the same."

With last regrets, Jack watched her sail away until she became a small dot on the horizon before completely disappearing all together.

_**Author's Note: **Yup, we know, yet another short chappie, but hey- we can only collaborate so fast. But we hoped you enjoyed this and we are steadfastly working on a chapter three to bring to you as soon as possible. Until then... make good choices! _

_-TW and J.L. Dexter_

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	3. Unaddressed Distress

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Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or the places, just the plot and imaginative background collaborating this story. The standard disclaimer and all: Writer to reader and but to butt; stay off my ass you crazy nut. --;;

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Exodus: From Past to Present

Previously on Exodus: "I'm leaving Jack." _Ana fidgeted before saying, "I guess this is good-bye."_

Jack nodded sadly. "Aye, guess it is," he paused, his hat in his hands. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't gonna miss you."

"I'm going to miss you too," she whispered, her attention suddenly focused on her feet. She felt a hand on her arm and glanced up just as Jack gently kissed her cheek. "Take care of yourself," he offered.

With last regrets, Jack watched her sail away until she became a small dot on the horizon before completely disappearing all together.

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Anamaria sat at her desk, the only sound the steady scratching of the quill upon the parchment she wrote on. The letter in which she wrote was a lengthy one and she finally ended it signing her name to the bottom as she sat back in her chair. Replacing the quill in the inkwell, she picked the letter up and quickly reread it. Setting it back down, she folded it before sealing it closed with wax.

Turning it over, she wrote _Captain Jack Sparrow _on it, the writing crisp and clean as she stood up. Her eyes lingered on the parchment a moment longer before a feeling of nervousness knotted in the pit of her stomach as she remembered the letter from Jack she had received.

It had been six years since she last saw him, and every now and then she'd find a letter waiting for her. That was their connection now; a few letters here and there. After she had left the _Pearl _she traveled around a bit, signing on from one ship to the next until she finally landed herself in the Carolina's. When she reached the colonies, her spark for adventure on the high seas just seemed to die right along with her spirit, so instead of bartering passage back to the Caribbean, she stayed where she was.

It took some time, but she eventually had success as a dressmaker's apprentice and before long, she had a shop of her own. For the most part, she was happy- she was well off, had made a few friends here and there and she still had her health; something Ana found to be cherished.

She stood in front of a mirror and studied her reflection, her nose wrinkling in scrutiny. Not much had changed she mused as she continued to stare at herself. Her hair was notably longer, the once course edge from the salt water gone, replaced with a black shine. She ran a finger over a cheek, the brown skin barely rippling in her youth. She sighed and turned away, a wooden model of a ship atop a chest of drawers catching her attention.

Ana traced the fine sail with a smooth fingertip before looking away, memories flooding her thoughts. She missed Jack… Their letters were so few, Ana sometimes wondered if he remembered she was still alive. But this previous letter left no doubt; she knew he knew.

There had never really been anything but lust between them; love was simply out of the question and Ana was sure that Jack had never really felt that way about her. The only thing that had been there was the desire: his desire for her and nothing more. Of course, six years was a long time for someone to change their mind and maybe, just maybe, a little something had changed in Jack's.

But just as Ana thought, things didn't last. In her heart, the saying _'when it seems too good to be true, it usually is_' had settled deeply. The loss of her daughter was proof of that. But yet, despite that one tragedy, the world had not ended. The sun still rose and it still set, even if it set a little lower in Anamaria's heart. And the one thing that remained was, Jack had still been there for her, and she had run out on him.

Her heart fluttered for a moment as she reminisced what she had read in Jack's latest letter. He had said he missed her terribly- that without her, nothing was the same. Not the crew, the raids, or the ship; to Ana, his letters made it all cease to exist. The captain's words were full of sorrow and she had to briefly stop and wonder if maybe there was something else there that she was missing. She finally shrugged it off as her being paranoid, that Jack and the crew were fine.

They were pirates after-all she mused, and everyone knew that pirates could take very good care of themselves. The dull white of her letter caught her eye and she deftly moved across the floor to the desk. Shaking her head, she slipped the parchment inside her cloak as she stepped out the door into the evening.

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The steady swish of skirts broke the silence as she strode through the dusty streets for home. She had had a tiring day at the shop, and her aching feet were all but agreeing for her to finally rest and take her awful shoes off. As she picked the hem of her skirt up to keep it clean, she had to stop and mentally chuckle at herself, _Jack would definitely be shocked if he were to see me like this, _she pondered, a grin upon her face.

She finally reached the comfort of the little house and heaved a sigh of relief as she opened the front door and hurried inside. A flash of white captured her attention and she stooped down to fish a clean and neatly addressed envelope from the floor, a frown settling on her face. Certainly the note was not from Jack; her letter hadn't even reached him yet, she was sure. And the handwriting scrawled on the front, was definitely not Jack's either. Tossing her black bag on a side table, she eased herself into the desk chair and tore the letter open

Withdrawing the clean cream colored parchment Ana unfolded it, a small scrap of paper falling from its confines. She reached down to pluck it from the spot by her feet, a chill running down her spine. Turning it over, she saw a brown seal stamped into the paper's grain; an anvil and a hammer. Ana narrowed her eyes in confusion as she ran a finger over it, its significance meaning nothing to her.

Setting it aside, she looked back at the letter in her hands, her dark eyes slowly reading down the page. A small gasp escaped her as she allowed the letter to flutter to the floor. The chair scraped across the floor as she rose to her feet and grabbed a shawl before rushing out into the chilling night.

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Normally, a letter such as this Ana would have shrugged off, but something about it frightened her. In the back of her mind, the warning bells were going off saying that she should heed the note and heed it she did.

She gripped the ships' railing tightly, her thoughts retreating back to that particular night. After having read the anonymous letter, she had rushed out to the docks looking for anyone who would allow her passage onboard their ship back to the Caribbean. After a great deal of haggling with several captain's she finally found one who agreed on her price and they set sail as soon as she was ready.

It had only been a few hours since they left port but already she was dreading the voyage, the feeling had set in as soon as the shoreline vanished from her sight. A month onboard after six years on land worried her, would she still have her sea legs? She lifted her chin high, a proud look crossing her features; she was a pirate, and a damned good one at that. Besides, who ever heard of a pirate losing their sea legs? It was absolutely absurd.

Turning her face toward the sun, throwing her caution to the wind, Ana closed her eyes reveling in the feeling of the sea beneath her once more. Soon, she'd be home again, back with Jack and the others. Back where she had left everything behind.

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Author's Notes: Now that the two pirates are meeting back up, things will start to look a lot better, I hope. And maybe we can get this story moving along with the rest of them.


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